


Change (or lack thereof)

by TheFangirlAndTheAngst



Series: All of Angst's fics!! (The DP ones) [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: And sleep-deprivation too, Gen, I don't know how to author, I enjoy misery, I'll stop with the tags now, It's my first fic ever oh God, Jack and Mads are Mean Beans, Jazz is doing a concern, Probably overused the italics, Some violence?? Kinda??, apparently, barely any, bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17054549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFangirlAndTheAngst/pseuds/TheFangirlAndTheAngst
Summary: It was the only time Jazz had ever truly hated being right.





	Change (or lack thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's Angst (The Fangirl is my friend- we've got a joint account)  
> True to form, name and nature, I'm starting off my time here with some good old fashioned angst!  
> So buckle up kids! Because I'm about to write you a thing that came into my brain at one in the morning and hasn't left me alone since.  
> Enjoy! (Or don't, I'm not forcing you to do anything.)

Jack and Madeline Fenton were notorious for forgetting to complete tasks they believed they had already; be it simple calculations for a new form of anti-ghost weaponry, pressing the ‘on’ button for a ghost portal that they had been working on for years prior, or, in this case, forgetting that they had not yet soundproofed the lab beneath the kitchen.

Which was why Jasmine was certain that she could hear muffled screaming emanating from the confines of the thick, steel-plated basement. The sound made her heart wrench with pain, and she didn’t think that it was a noise that she would be forgetting all that soon.

She could hear her mother and father, too. The words were hard to make out over the wails, but she attempted to listen all the same. Jasmine occasionally picked up words like 'respondent' and 'amplify', which did not put anything into any kind of sensical context. Were the ghost-hunting duo testing out a new invention? While that would usually be the most logical answer, it did not explain the screaming. Were they testing out an invention _on_ someone? She hoped not- malevolent spectre or otherwise, _nothing_ deserved to sound that _anguished_ and _afraid_. She feared what could possibly be going on down there that could make a ghost _cry_ so.

The two Fentons would laugh sometimes as well, cruel, biting laughter, bitter as the cold. It unnerved her. Surely they could not be _enjoying_ it? No, of course they could be; Jasmine had heard them talk about what they would do if they ever got their greedy hands on a ghost- it was hard _not_ to, as it was all that seemed to talk about. She felt great pain for Danny in those times, as he had taken to walking out of the room, significantly paler than when he had first entered, claiming that he had homework to do.

Could Danny hear what was going on downstairs? That was a silly question. If she herself could hear it, then _obviously_ Danny could. She felt sick as she thought about the psychological affect this would have on her baby brother- it was the sort of thing she couldn't imagine him getting over soon.

Jasmine wanted to go to her brother- to comfort him and cover his ears, if only to at least muffle the sound- but, when she tried to move, she found she was unable to. It frustrated her to no end. Danny needed her right now, and she couldn’t even get out of bed. Pathetic, really, but there wasn’t much she could do about it other than wait for the moment to pass.

Thoughts flitted about her head like flies around a newly-rotting corpse (what a horrid analogy, but fitting nonetheless) and she settled on one of the more worrying ones:

Who was it? _Who was screaming?_

The most awful part about dwelling on this particular concern was that Jasmine was _sure_ that she knew who it was. The name was on the tip of her tongue, but, for some reason, she couldn’t quite place it. It was like trying to think of a word, and you know _exactly_ what the word is, but you just _can’t remember it_. Maybe it was because of how terrible the scream was, because she’d never heard anyone cry like that before. Or maybe it was because she simply didn’t _want_ to know.

She quickly decided that, no matter the impact it may have on her to recognise the voice, she needed to know who it was. So, she made a mental list of all the ghosts who it could be:

Skulker? No. with or without the suit, he sounded completely different.

Johnny 13? Couldn’t be. If it were him, she would have heard the revving of his motorcycle when he exited the portal.

That ruled out Kitty, too. She never came alone, and the ghost was clearly male.

Youngblood? No. The voice was one that belonged to someone much older than him.

The Box Ghost? Definitely not. She hadn’t heard ‘beware’ uttered once.

Vlad? Impossible- he was in Europe on a business trip for about a month. Danny had been smug about it all week.

 

**Wait.**

**… _Danny?_**

 

Jasmine’s blood ran cold. It couldn’t possibly be Danny. Of course it wasn’t, why would it be? She’d read somewhere that, in nature, mothers can always recognise the cries of their young, and the same had been proven for humans time and time again. If that was true, then how could it be Danny? As soon as he started screaming, Maddie (Jasmine ignored the subconscious use of her mother’s first name) would have immediately recognised him as Danny, her _son_ , her _baby boy_.

It shouldn’t be possible, but, now that the idea had planted itself in her head, _how could it be anyone else?_

(Something told her that maybe they knew exactly who it was they were torturing, but they didn’t care. It sickened her to realise that that wasn’t completely unlikely.)

 

Then, all at once, all the noise stopped, and after a few moments, the tell-tale sounds of her parents feebly attempting to creep up the stairs in silence echoed through the house. The elder Fentons seemingly collapsing as they hit their bed, still in their jumpsuits (no doubt coated in a radioactive green), because not seconds later, Jack’s obnoxiously loud snoring, muffled slightly by his pillows, sounded through Fenton-Works like a foghorn.

But then she heard sobbing coming from the lab, and it sounded _too much_ like Danny for it to be anyone else, and he sound so _heartbroken_. In that moment, it was all just so terrifyingly _real_ for Jasmine that it made her stomach churn terribly, and suddenly all the feeling came rushing back into her body, so, she scrambled out of her bed to reach her baby brother. To do something, _anything_ , to help him.

Jasmine, in all her life, had never seen someone look so horrified. She didn’t blame him one bit.

Those two _monsters_ really _had_ dissected him. The slash from the knife, or the saw, or _whatever_ they had used on him, was so _deep_ that, even with Danny’s advanced healing, the mark that it would surely leave was never going to go away. His liver was hanging out precariously from the wound, looking as if it might fall out if he jostled it, and a piece of his rib was missing- most likely snapped off by the two scientists for further examination. It made her want to _throw up._

He didn’t have a hand anymore, either, and ectoplasm flowed steadily from the stub where it had once been.

If she hadn’t been already, Jasmine would have been disgusted by how truly _sadistic_ her ‘parents’ could be- whether they realised it was their son or not.

She wanted to pounce on Danny. Crush him in a hug and not let go for _at least a week_ , but then he opened his still-teary eyes, and once again, Jasmine froze.

His toxic green irises were glazed over with fear, and they seemed so _haunted_ (the irony was physically painful), and then he met her own eyes and whispered quietly in a way that made it seem as if he had seen blood-shed war, his voice carrying eerily.

“I can’t change back, Jazz. Jazz, I can’t change back. It’s gone. It hurts _so much_ and now _they’ve actually done it this time_ and now it’s gone and it’s never coming back and I’m so, _so scared, Jazz._ ”

Had she been thinking clearly, Jasmine would have known what he meant immediately. She wasn’t, though, so she had to ask.

“Wait, Danny, slow down. _What’s gone?_ ”

 

_“My human-half. I’m **dead** , Jazz. They really killed me this time.”_

 

And suddenly, Jasmine didn’t feel all that safe living in the same house as her parents.


End file.
